"Yes, good morning to you, also." As usual a dozen or so young hens and one elegant rooster greeted me with a cheerful cackling sound. They were a welcome sight after scurrying through the frost-stiffened grass with my battery operated lamp bouncing beside me.
Take note of those two Rhode Island Reds still on the roost. They have 'hung out' together longer than any of the others.If they were humans, someone would declare that they had a bond created by adversity. In the early part of summer, I had ten little red hens. One night I forgot to lock them up, and the number went down to nine. Several nights later we went out for night lunch. I thought of them, yes I truly did, but nine thirty is too early for guests to politely leave, especially in this North Country with its long summer evenings. Well, you guessed it. I forgot when we went home.
Two thirty ro-o-o-l-l-l-ed around. My husband heard a dog bark and a chicken squawk. He leaped out of bed. I hurriedly followed.
We scurried around with our feeble lights, but where were the birds? The dog is barking excitedly behind the chicken house and there lies One Dead Bird. Poor Sheba is hastily blamed, but on calmer reflection anyone can tell you she couldn't have destroyed what appeared to be a whole flock of chickens in one night.Golden Retrievers don't have that kind of reputation.
We wandered mournfully around, and finally one frightened hen was found huddled in the chicken house. Well, we humans need our sleep whether the rest of the chickens were dead or alive. When the sun rose to brighten the sky, I continued searching and one bedraggled hen ventured hesitantly from behind a huge tree.
I put the two together and they didn't leave each others side for many hours. As far as that goes, they didn't go anywhere at all for a long time.
The rest of the flock had totally disappeared, but those two learned to put on their own 'vanishing act'. Late in the afternoon, but long before evening shadows had lengthened those two 'old girls' would fly way up into the branches of the towering Manitoba Maples. They would have regularly spent their nights there, if we hadn't hauled them down and put them in the chicken house..
There's a risk having chickens in the back country!
Interested in what else this writer has to say? Hang out at www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com , then.
